


Behave

by orphan_account



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Captivity, M/M, One-Sided Attraction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-22
Updated: 2016-03-22
Packaged: 2018-05-28 07:51:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6321166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You sit tight and behave, I’ll be right back.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Behave

**Author's Note:**

> “I was wondering if I could request a story about Ratchet and Pharma, preferably an alternate universe where Ratchet didn’t suggest the competition or it ended up becoming delayed. Added points if there’s some sort of escape or fight that goes on between the both of them. Thanks!”
> 
> Didn’t know what you meant by escape so I ended up having to put Ratchet back in his body. Hope that doesn’t deter from the story. This takes place before Ambulon and First Aid are revealed and after Ratchet has been put back in his body, so there is still a bit of that delay. I pray this one isn't too bad.

x

 

“Oh Ratchet, you’re a sight for sore optics,” Pharma declared, “I swear if you took care of yourself better and actually considered your appearance rather than your reports, you would look less like a pile of scrap and more like what a respectable medic should appear to be.” The doctor was polishing his sharp scalpel as he lounged on one of the chairs closest to the medical berth where Ratchet was strapped down, forced to watch the scene before him and deprived of movement.

 

“If only you’d let me up; I guarantee I could make your optics feel worse than sore.” In response, Pharma let out a laugh. Not one of good nature that the two had shared over energon years back, but a harsh and slightly erratic chuckle that bounced off the walls. It served to make the atmosphere around them feel more tense, if it were possible.

 

The medical slab he had been strapped down to was tough and uncomfortable, nowhere near what he had grown used to on the Lost Light. It made getting comfortable quite a chore and he found himself once again tilting his head to get a better angle that wouldn’t leave his old joints in pain. Unfortunately, the new position gave him a better view of Pharma, who was smirking at him from a distance, appeased.

 

“I must say I’m blessed to be presented with such _passionate_ company. Most experiments would lack a sense of humour once they came to the realization that they were ultimately useless by this point, but you’re as fervent as ever. It adds to your appeal you know.” Pharma dragged his brittle scalpel down the metal of an unidentifiable medical scanner of sorts, producing a high-pitched shrieking noise that shredded Ratchet’s sensitive audials.

 

“Oh, so I’m an experiment now,” Ratchet snapped out callously, flinching as he begged for his audials to stop ringing.

 

“No, I would call you,” Pharma paused, “A guest.”

 

“Guest would imply I would be allowed to leave, and that I had entered this engagement willingly.” 

 

Pharma let out an exasperated huff. “Think of it as an extended visit then.” 

 

“Hopefully it ends soon then, wouldn’t want to overstay my welcome.”

 

“I’m afraid I might have you let you down there old friend, I have high faith that you’re not going to be going anywhere for quite some time, but that’s just me rambling again,” Pharma rolled his shoulders back, “I would consider yourself fortunate though, captivity is a small price to pay for activation. I think you should be lavishing me with affection for the sacrifice I made rather than insulting me and questioning my skill set.” The comment was worsened by Pharma’s blunt strokes over his own plating, his optics locked on Ratchet’s and changing hue to match whatever twisted thoughts his processor had conjured up.

 

Ratchet didn’t say anything; there wasn’t anything worth mentioning. Entertaining the other with another snark statement would prove a waste of his time.

 

“Goodness, you’re lost for words. I’m genuinely surprised, knowing you there would usually be some weak compromise for me to consider,” Pharma teased, rising to his full height and stretching out his joints, practically taunting the other with the liberty of movement that had been taken from him. A few joints creaked more than usual, likely because of the intense back bending that could have been anything but beneficial to his health.

 

“I have given up trying to negotiate with you. You’re simply going to pretend to listen and contemplate before mocking me with a denial,” Ratchet spat, fidgeting to get comfortable again.

 

Pharma had finished stretching and fixed him with a complacent look. “Not entirely, you just don’t have anything that would appeal to me enough to consider your requests.”

 

“Maybe.” His direct response got him an astonished look from the doctor that looked too staged to be natural.

 

“I’m guessing you aren’t too fond of being strapped down like a museum exhibit, can’t see any other reason why you would willingly agree with me on something unless it was related to your release.”

 

“I wonder how you could have _possibly_ come to that conclusion,” Ratchet sarcastically spat, nasal ridge creasing the slightest bit. 

 

“You have no reason to worry my dear,” Ratchet let out a noticeable wince at the nickname, “You won’t be bored for long, our other guests won’t take much longer. Soon they’ll arrive and then we can get to work.”

 

Ratchet grunted. “Sure.”

 

“You’ll like it. Between you and me, I don’t care much for the hands, but that’s not important. What’s important is that the two of us are going to be working together again, for the first time in who knows how long. I’ve been looking forward to this for a while now; thank you so much for the suggestion by the way.”

 

“Why even bother then Pharma, I’m your prisoner, not your plaything,” Ratchet wheezed, “I knew you were deranged in some aspects, but I thought you of all mechs would want to leave our friendship behind, unless of course this is to make up for your wrongdoings in Delphi-“

 

The jet had tensed and slammed his hand down harshly on the medical berth. “Friendship," He tested the word once before laughing, “No no no. I can’t believe you’re so self-centred to think that of all things; and you call _me_ the egotistical freak. How _hilarious_. But of course, this is coming from the wise old doctor that has the nerve to think I would go out of my way to do all of this just to spit out a disguised apology. In case you’ve forgotten, it was _you_ that got me spun up in this conflict in the first place,” He pointed an accusing blue digit in Ratchet’s direction, “If _you_ didn’t head off to Earth, I would have no reason to accept Prowl’s request to go to Delphi. I never would have met Tarn or had to create a virus to get out of that Primus-forsaken wasteland. The two of us would have be just fine, better than fine actually, but you just had to be so _selfish_ and think only of yourself and not the friends you would be leaving behind. Well now look where it has gotten you.”

 

Pharma mercilessly seized Ratchet by the neck and applied enough to force to come close to decapitating him. He leaned in close enough to rest his mouth against an audial and simply warmed the patch of metal with his vent outtake until he had calmed himself enough to speak.“Look at you Ratchet, you’re mine now. You’re my helpless little prisoner and you can’t change that,” Some of the restraints whined and split under the strong hold that threatened to rip the body loose, “Whatever we do will be on my word and I can do whatever I goddamn like, so shut up and stop being so conceited, it’s not always about you.” After waiting a moment to listen to the troubled breathing of the other, he let go, not bothering to check the few bonds had snapped while he was playing rough. Ratchet gasped for air, vents struggling to supply him properly under the stress they’d been put through.

 

Pharma looked on, almost weary as he observed his ex-friend sputter, though at the same time, he radiated pleasure at the sight. “Only you Ratchet, only you would do this to me.” Pharma laughed icily, though there was hints of self-conflict in his optics that lessened the cruelty of it. He seemed to be at war with himself, reaching out to the breathless doctor before pulling his hand back and clenching it into a controlled fist. Ratchet could do nothing more but stare and grind his plating together, expecting a blow at any minute that would wreck his processes.

 

It never came. Pharma vented in a deep breath and released his fists, finally reaching out to touch the doctor but with a much calmer ambience. His digits lightly pressed against Ratchet’s recently assembled shoulder, drifting down to his chest and resting over the delicate armor that housed his spark. It prompted Ratchet to go on the defensive to protect himself, but the rogue medic made no move to pry open the housing and moved downwards, across bonds and towards the stomach where he produced a swirling motion that made Ratchet’s tanks drop. 

 

When Ratchet let out a displeased noise, Pharma moved up, fleeting to his helm before something caught his attention. Clean from the recent attachment were the two stolen hands that had caused so much trouble between the both of them, so innocently placed and on display, prompting one to get a closer look. Pharma was content with just looking for what seemed like ages. Then, finally, he was reaching out to pick up one and examine it aimlessly. The red paint gleamed in the low light of the room, but the fall had caused some of it to chip away. 

 

Ratchet was subtly trying to pull away, but if Pharma had felt or seen it, he chose not to comment. “I should repaint these, perhaps your chevron too. It always looked nicer in black.”  He was using his remaining hand to brush over the knuckles of the unmoving appendage that he held, clutching it as though it were glass.

 

Ratchet knew better than to draw attention to the chevron, knowing it would only rile the doctor up. Pharma seemed calmer then he did before, but there was no telling how he would react to opposition at this point. The two sat in a patient silence, neither willing to interrupt the silent armistice that was going on.

 

They had both been there long enough for Ratchet’s optics to condemn being online. The repetitive stroking motion over his hands was soothing enough to lull him, even if it was Pharma behind it. He was half-way into recharge when his hand was painfully dropped and slammed against the berth, jerking him into awareness immediately. Pharma was walking in the direction of the door, wings flapping impatiently.

 

“I have no idea what’s taking them so long, surely they should have been here by now, “ He glanced back at Ratchet, faceplates betraying no emotion, “While I hate to simply abandon you to your own processor, I really should check up on them. After all, I’m known for sticking to my promises, and I wouldn’t dream of postponing such an engaging challenge.” The doors slid open obediently and beckoned him to come forth into the much darker passage. 

 

“You sit tight and behave, I’ll be right back.”

 

x

 

Pharma had finally left him unattended for the first time since he had been subjected to this glitch-inducing nightmare, and he wasn’t about to take it for granted. With how angry he was during the fight, there was no doubt that some sort of discipline would be dished out and he didn’t want to be present to witness it.

 

A few of the bonds had creaked under Pharma’s weight while he was threatening him, and they didn’t seem to require much force to break. It was still uncomfortable, and without hands, difficult to manoeuvre, but he was determined to get out. Hastily, he pushed himself forward by arching his wrecked shoulders back and applied enough pressure to the bonds until they let out an ominous creak. They had loosened enough to allow Ratchet to adjust his stance and push once more. With a grunt and a snap, his torso was free and he was flung forward awkwardly, still held back by the cuffs restraining his arms. It wasn’t too much trouble to squirm out of the one and then easily disable the other, and finally, he could drop safely to the ground without tearing a limb clean off. 

 

When he did eventually landed, immediate system reports blared their warnings. He had known that Pharma had failed to reapply inner plating and wires to limit his mobility, but he didn’t know there was _so much_ missing. It was astounding that he had even been able to lift himself, and after only taking a small step, his legs threatened to buckle. Another step, and his body enlightened him with how tempting the thought of lying down and recharging would be. Grunting, Ratchet pushed himself forward and occupied himself with the thought of what Pharma would do to him if he found his recently assembled body half way out of the door. It was enough to scare the plating off of any sane bot.

 

After waiting to give Pharma proper time to leave the room and any location close by, Ratchet slowly inched in the direction of the doorway, careful to not give himself away with any sudden movements. There didn't seem to be any noises or creaks from other residents, so he concluded it was safe enough to go. It was now or never anyways, and whatever Pharma was looking for would not wait until the storm had passed to barge on in.

 

Ignoring the protest in his stiff leg joints, he sprinted out of the room he had been held captive in and didn’t stop even when he could hear voices in the distance that were suspiciously familiar. He stuck with the belief that anyone here would be out for his head, so he needed to keep low until there was an opportunity for him to contact someone else. Pharma had obviously cut his communications, so he would be forced to find some form of transportation or communicator that could contact Rodimus.

 

He was unfamiliar with the territory, and it made his escape much harder than it needed to be. Whoever designed the facility clearly needed to work on not creating paths that made you run in circles or trap yourself in an utterly useless dead end. Most doors led to laboratories or storage and rarely did he find anything of interest or use. He supposed that if he stopped long enough to get a good look around, he could gain a sense of his bearings or at least find a solid hiding place in an abandoned closet, but his priority now was getting out, and hiding would be more like surrendering and waiting for deactivation to come. Pharma and his ‘friends’ knew this place much better than he did and hiding would be pointless if the knew where to look.

 

After trying, and failing, to see if one of the vents would open for him and allow passage through, a startled shriek kicked his processor out of his predicament and jerked him back into awareness. It was difficult to tune in on from how distant it was, but he barely needed one particular screech to clearly recognize the voice of Pharma.

 

“...Oh you slag-eating little **glitch.** You couldn't just sit still, could you?"

 

Chilled screaming followed the slurs and swears, choked out and accompanied by the sound of equipment being flipped over. It was impossible to tell if it had been done out of anger, or in vain to see if Ratchet was still in the room. Either way, it slowed Pharma down, and he was counting his blessings tonight. It also meant that he was now on a timer, and couldn’t waste anymore time than needed. Pharma didn't sound too far away, and his rage would fuel his already bad impatience.

 

He needed a way out now.

 

In the distance he could hear jarring sounds of movement and overworking vents of a what he assumed was the enraged jet, but he pushed his worries to the back of his mind and kept moving forward, slipping out of the low-hanging passage and making more of an attempt to avoid obvious detection. His underfed body had grown used to being strapped prisoner to a sterile medical berth and the added weight placed on the aching joints was not well received. Every few minutes or so he was forced to stop and catch his breath, and he swore on those few moments of recovery, the sounds of Pharma grew louder.

 

The procedure was nothing pleasant, but he would keep running for an eternity if it meant not having to spend even a few nano-clicks by Pharma’s side.

 

The mech in question was following the trail of red and white paint scratches underneath the faint lighting of the makeshift base. The panic in Ratchet was obvious by the clumsy running that left behind indicators of where he had been headed. It couldn’t have helped that he was disoriented and lacking some functions, but Pharma wasn’t complaining. 

 

 While it was infuriating to have to go out and find his captive after he had put so much work into their challenge, there was a certain charm to seeing the stubborn personality acted on once more. Ratchet had been startlingly pacified throughout his captivity, and it was boring, even with his occasional insults that interrupted the ceasefire. He missed the attitude that had set Ratchet apart from every other doctor Pharma had been cursed to work alongside; it certainly wasn’t something you saw every cycle.

 

“Raaaaatchet,” Pharma drawled, “Where have you run off to? You know I’m going to find you eventually.“ He opened the doors to an empty supply closet close some distance from the original room and found nothing, no objects disturbed or any signs of entrance. It was unlikely Ratchet would have tried hiding as opposed to running, but it never hurt to check. After all, his ex-friend was notable for throwing him under the rug.

 

“You do realize the longer this takes, the worse it is going to be for you and your fellow patients. The more you rile me up, the more you’re going to wish you just surrendered.” He let his presence be known, slamming doors that he passed as his search continued. He _wanted_ Ratchet to know he was coming and dread it, anything to have him regret breaking free and think twice about continuing to defy his wishes.

 

Eventually, the paint streaks had disappeared and the pointers became far and few, fuelling the impatience of the jet. Ratchet could not have gone far, not in his condition, so it made no sense as to why he hadn’t turned up yet. He couldn’t have passed by him already, but there was no indication that he was anywhere ahead. With a grunt, he shouldered a neglected box aside and pushed onwards, unbelievably close to calling for someone else to assist him. 

 

Then, finally, he noticed an abandoned chunk of plating stranded in the middle of one of the storage facility access points. The colour was an red-orange and was rough to the touch, a clear indication of who it had come from. He likely would have not noticed in the fight to keep moving, and it was so small that it wouldn’t have made any loud noises to alert him to it falling off. Turning it around in his grasp, Pharma concluded it had to have been from his upper back and fell off because it wasn’t secure, nothing more.

 

Judging from the position of the chunk, Ratchet could have only gone west, deeper into the storage compartments used for faulty equipment and common supplies. The halls were nothing too hard to navigate if you knew the place, but the winding nature of them could lead you running in circles if you didn’t know what you were doing. There was only one entrance, right where Pharma was, so Ratchet had to be stuck in there somewhere.

 

 He wondered just how long his captive had been clumsily running in circles, and _oh- how frustrating_ it must have been to be getting nowhere. It certainly made his task a lot easier though, there was only so many places he could go. Some passages were too hard to access and others were sealed off completely unless you had the access code, which Ratchet would not have the time to figure out.

 

This would be fun.

 

“I know you’re in there Ratchet and I can tell that you’re nervous. If I can suggest something, giving up would be a wonderful choice. Just think, I won’t have to forcefully and/or violently bring you back, and I _may_ just forgive you with no grudge.” He made sure to broadcast his voice so the ambulance would be able to hear him from wherever he was stranded. After giving him several moments to have it sink in, he slammed an arm against a wall as a precaution, “Okay then, don't say I didn't warn you.”

 

It didn’t take long at all to get a hint of where he was, as only several minutes after checking one of the first shallow passages he heard a sudden crash and muffled, slurred swear, which sounded very familiar to the mech he was hunting down. Without a second to lose, he bolted in that direction, having a vague sense of where Ratchet was trying to go. It was the darkest corner of the network, but natural light did come through at several segments, fuelling the thought of being close to liberation. There was no danger of him getting out though, at least, not now.

 

By the time he had rounded the last corner, he could see the sprawled out form of Ratchet on the floor, clutching his legs and curled in a fetal position. From the looks of it, Ratchet had been attempting to crawl away after his legs had failed, but only managed to make it so far, as evidenced by the streaks of paint contrasting the dull colours of the ground. Ratchet didn’t have to look up to know Pharma had arrived, and let out a stream of bitter curses at his failure.

 

“There you are my dear, took me quite a while to find you, but that made it all the more satisfying. However, I have little patience for your games now.” Pharma walked over to the body of his former comrade, sighing as Ratchet began scrambling with vitality to get away. He easily pinned the medic by stepping on a disrupted leg and applied weight to prevent any sort of escape. They must have given out under his own weight as Ratchet had been running.

 

“Pharma,” Ratchet cautioned, putting his hands up in a defensive position, “Please Pharma, let’s be honest about this, you would have done the same had you been in my position.”  Pharma let out a quiet ‘tsk’ and shook his helm, bending down to scoop up the writhing form that was Ratchet. The doctor attempted to elbow him sharply but missed by a few inches and only managed to cause Pharma to lose his balance.

 

“Ratchet,” Pharma warned, “Stop.” 

 

Ratchet only sneered, “If you’re doing this as some sort of torture or revenge I could care less, but stop cosseting me. Just kill me and get it over with, no need to sugarcoat it to lessen the blow. I know you’re angry about what happened in Delphi,” Pharma noticeably flinched, “But at least let me go with some _dignity_.”

 

Pharma let out a false pained gasp. “Why would you suggest such a thing Ratchet, I would _never_. I simply wanted to compete in a nice little challenge with my old friend, that’s no crime.” Pharma tightly gripped Ratchet, enough to cause pain receptors to wake. Ratchet responded immediately, kicking out as best he could and squirming to try and loosen the hold. One well aimed kick had Pharma stumbling, and he answered it by tightening his hold further, cutting off the circulation and cracking weak plating that had not been built to withstand the pressure.

 

“Oh s-sure, you ah, kidnapped me _just_ to prattle on about medical practices,” The ambulance panted, “And not for some ugh- petty form of torture. Don’t do this Pharma, it’s insulting to my credibility. I know you m-much better than that and you know it.” Pharma scoffed, and it spurred on a swipe from Ratchet that made a direct hit to his nasal ridge. Snarling, the jet tightened his hold yet again and pinned the medic to the wall by his neck, pressing deep enough to damage the vents and soft plating that was exposed. “I-If you’re going t-to eugh- do this, then fine, I-I suspected you lost your sanity long ago, just don’t expect me to sink along with your ship. Now I’m getting out of here, whether you like it or not and-“

 

“I put you back in that body to reciprocate and compete, not to run away. Though I suppose in the end, that might have been too much to ask for in your frantic state. No worries,” Pharma let his right hand release Ratchet’s neck cables and retract into his body, soon to be replaced with the significant bulk of his deadly chainsaw, “I think I _have_ been letting you off too easy lately, I never did get back at you properly for what you did. I would say I’m sorry it has come to this, but I would be lying in some aspects. Now, _stay still_.”

 

“I- wait, _what_?” Petrified, Ratchet began to struggle, trying to get as far away from the teeth of the weapon that was agonizingly close to him. His legs, that were still trying to recuperate, kicked out as strong as they could, catching Pharma in the pelvic armour and pushing him away using the wall as purchase. Pharma simply mumbled something Ratchet could not catch and pressed the inactive chainsaw forward to get a better grip on Ratchet and keep him in place.

 

“Ratchet, stop making this difficult,” Pharma warned, “If you’re going to whimper like a frightened sparkling then I’ll just remove your arms too for good measure. Oh, and no one said it didn’t have to be painful either, I would think about that before you go on struggling.” 

 

Ratchet so dearly wanted to call Pharma’s bluff, unluckily for him though that wasn’t the case. He was subjected to watching the lethal weapon come to life and drift maddeningly close to his thighs, the sound of the running chainsaw drowning out any sort of white noise. Pharma looked to be taunting him, glowing optics glancing up from their position once or twice as he pulled the chainsaw back before thrusting it forth again.

 

Then without warning, it came in contact with his plating directly, and for a brief second, there was nothing. Only once the reality of the situation set in did the mind blowing pain of his innards being forcefully cut through reach him. The medic couldn’t hold back his cries and soon found himself screaming his vocalizer out at how excruciating it was. Energon was gushing out in spurts, practically repainting over Pharma’s standard colours with optic-catching pink, though he did not seem bothered by it in the slightest. 

 

His hands weakly grabbed on to Pharma’s back and squeezed to try and relieve the pain, but it did very little to help or distract him. As a last minute spite, he dug his digits into the paint and raked down, getting some satisfaction in the way Pharma growled.

 

It didn’t take long at all to finish the job, and Ratchet soon found himself without a working pair of legs. The revving of the chainsaw quieted down and Pharma was pulling back to give his captive a view, if of course he wanted to look. Ratchet was desperately trying to gloss over the pain and regain a sense of control, but each nano-click was just another stretch of agony as his confused body tried to figure out why it could no longer feel anything below the crotch. 

 

This was much, much worse than simply being a disembodied head; At least then the separation had been done without him being an active participant.

 

When Ratchet had finally stopped being bombarded with anguish, he finally dared to online his optics and look down at the disaster beneath him. It looked as bad at it felt. From his lower thighs downwards there was nothing, his lower body on the floor like a pile of scrap. Copious amounts of his vital fluids were bubbling out from his mouth from his inner plating failing to comply and respond to the offence.

 

With his vents flooded, he groggily turned to his cooling fans to provide relief, however no response came even after several prompts, and it was then that he realized they were missing, looted from his unconscious body just like the rest of his organs. The revelation brought on another bout of coughing and squealing as the feeling of suffocation increased ten-fold.

 

Pharma had been unusually silent besides for the growls, watching Ratchet through half-shuttered optics. He only moved to wipe away the thick substance streaming from Ratchet’s mouth as the doctor sputtered and chocked on his own fluids, his thumb sweeping under Ratchet’s lower lip in an almost loving matter to collect the worst of it.

 

“Shhh- shhh Ratchet. It’s over- It’s over. You don’t have to worry about that happening again,” The tone was sweet, laced with a false sense of security, “Let’s go back to the berth and get your wounds patched. I would say that you’ve learned your lesson for today,” Pharma cooed, kicking the useless legs aside and grabbing Ratchet by the waist to steady him. He could still hear the warped cries from behind, but ignored the majority of them in favour of getting back to his medical bay. He knew he was a good doctor, capable of treating an injury like this without much difficulty, but that didn’t mean that he didn’t want his cherished medic generally unharmed. Besides, wounds like this could become unpredictable if left to fester.

 

“It seems that karma has caught up to you, on a more drastic scale, wouldn’t you say so?” Ratchet did not answer besides for a few muffled moans, remaining as he was. Pharma let out a soft chuckle, stroking Ratchet’s back to calm him down, though it was not necessary. Other than the dying noises, the medic was not responding to any action or word he said. He was already too far gone.

 

Pharma paused, taking a moment to observe the inactive blue optics that stared blankly ahead. “Hm, you’re a lot of work, but you’re worth it. I’m so sorry to postpone our little engagement, I know you were looking forward to it, but there’s still plenty of time left after some rest.” He still flashed a smile at the practically unconscious ambulance before picking up the pace and disappearing into the darkened hall, the shadows consuming the last of his slender frame.


End file.
